


Monsters in the Dark

by Headfulloffantasies



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blood Drinking, Catholic themes, Churches, Devil, Monster fic, Religion, halloween fic, non-graphic blood, vampire, wereraven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 13:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21162224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Headfulloffantasies/pseuds/Headfulloffantasies
Summary: Monster fic. Peter gets bit by something mysterious and follows Clint to get help from the Devil. Not as dark as the tags make it sound.





	Monsters in the Dark

Peter was suffering. He was always suffering, between due dates, deadlines, cancelled dates, meetings, and sessions. But this particular suffering had resulted in blood soaking his sleeve. The dark alley was spinning. Why on earth had he thought it would be a good idea to cut through the black alley to shave five minutes off his commute? The shadow had fallen on him before he could scream. He didn’t remember much else. Pain in his wrist. Woozy. Stench of rotten roses. Hot breath in his face. Then the figure was gone and Peter was alone.  
It was the weirdest mugging he’d ever participated in. Mostly because he still had his wallet.  
At the end of the alley a pool of golden light cast by a street lamp illuminated a set of wings. Like ink on shade, the raven swooped down and landed on the dumpster beside Peter.  
It gave a loud "Caw!" and dropped behind the dumpster, lost in shadow. The shadow grew, stretching up and growing arms and legs.  
A man stepped out of the darkness. “Hi, I’m Clint.”  
Peter stammered.  
“Let me see,” Clint shoved himself into Peter’s space, taking his arm and turning it this way and that. He hummed. “You’ve been bit. You’re going to turn.”  
“Are you a bird?” Peter blurted out.  
Clint tipped his head, regarding him without blinking. “Not exactly.” He stood and extended a hand to Peter. “I know someone who can help”  
“Who?”  
“The Devil.”  
Peter burst into hysterical laughter.  
Clint frowned. “You’ve been bit,” Clint repeated. “There isn’t much time.”  
“Time for what?” Peter gasped.  
“Time before you turn. If you turn before you see the Devil, you’ll never be human again.”  
Peter stared. “Like a werewolf?” His stupid brain supplied.  
Clint shrugged, “Maybe. I don’t what bit you. Could be something worse.”  
I’m dreaming, Peter thought. The mugger hit me in the head and I’m on the ground dreaming while he takes my wallet and runs.  
“Sure, why not,” Peter surrendered to the dream. He took Clint’s hand and let him pull Peter to his feet.  
“Come on,” Clint took off at a bounding run. It was a weaving sort of lope that reminded Peter of the way magpies hop around looking for scraps.  
Peter hurried to catch up, clutching his bloody wrist. Clint led him on a darting path further into the city, into the darker corners of New York.  
Clint pulled up suddenly. “The Devil is just a couple of blocks from here. He’ll know we’re coming.”  
“He lives in Hell’s Kitchen? Isn’t that wildly cliched?” Peter was shaking. He was starting to think this wasn’t a dream. He’d never been out of breath in a dream before. And his wrist hurt, bad. It was starting to burn like acid.  
“He has an aesthetic to appeal to,” Clint took off again.  
Peter followed through the neighborhood until they turned into a churchyard. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mumbled.  
A stained glass window depicting Saint Peter’s crucifixion loomed over the back door of a Catholic church. The upside down saint grinned, winking in the weak street light.  
Clint pushed the door open.  
The sanctuary yawned. He stepped hesitantly inside. Candles flickered in front of the pulpit in their hellish red canisters.  
“Hey, Red!” Clint yelled. His voice echoed through the crypt-like sanctuary. The neat rows of pews creaked.  
“Quiet in church, Clint.” The voice came from behind.  
Peter whirled around.  
Draped lazily over the pulpit was a man. He wore dark glasses and a suit. He was the most undemon person Peter could have conceived.  
The man sniffed. “You’re turning.” He focused his face to Peter. Peter couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark glasses.  
“That’s what he told me,” Peter stammered.  
“I can smell it,” the man sniffed again as if to make a point. “You’re close.”  
Clint perched on a pew across the aisle from Peter. “I brought him to you for help,” Clint said.  
“To the Devil?” the man grinned.  
Peter startled back a step. His legs hit the edge of a pew. The man’s teeth were razor sharp. He sealed his lips over them again,as if he could take the knowledge back from Peter.  
“You’re the Devil?” Peter’s hands were ice. His vision swam.  
The Devil was beside him in an instant. “Sit before you fall. The change is about to start.”  
“Help,” Peter choked. His legs gave out and he thudded onto the pew.  
The Devil hummed. “I only do this deal for very special people. Clint sees something in you. Something good.”  
The Devil sneered, “Maybe you’re worth it, maybe not. What do we think? Would you rather die, or be a monster?”  
The words didn’t make sense to Peter. His blood was on fire. “Help.”  
The Devil sighed. “This will hurt.”  
He leaned down and took Peter’s bloody wrist. He lifted it to his mouth. Peter was too far gone to protest. The Devil’s mouth opened. The dozens of needle teeth plunged into the open wound. Peter screamed.  
The Devil held him still in a grip like iron. Peter stared up at the fresco-ed ceiling. Michael battled Lucifer and tossed the demon into Hell. Fires raged around Lucifer, devouring his body. The Archangel smiled at the destruction of his brother.  
The teeth retracted. Peter slumped on the pew.  
The Devil wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’ll be fine. I got all the poison out. Rest now.”  
Peter’s eyes slid closed of their own accord. Before he succumbed to darkness he saw one last thing. The Devil removed his dark glasses. Fire like the pits of Hell burned in his eyesockets.


End file.
